Title: In the Blood, ch 29
Author: Whytewytch/Whytewytch4
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairings: Evan Lorne/OFC
Word count: 2600
Rating: NC-17 (violence)
Spoilers/Warnings: Bloodshed
Summary: Justinia encounters her first Wraith in the Pegasus Galaxy. Will it be the last thing she ever does?
A/N: Thanks to jagnikjen for the beta
Justinia struggled as Kemp grabbed her arm and pulled her from the cottage. The sun hit her full in the face and she blinked in an effort to help her eyes adjust. Kemp didn't seem to have any problem as he dragged her through the streets of the little village, heading for the tree line.
"I can't leave him." Justinia slapped ineffectually at his strong hand on her wrist.
Kemp glanced back at her, sparing her no more than a split second before his gaze swept behind her and returned to their path. "You have no choice. The major gave us an order. He told us to run. We'll get back to the jumper and go back for him with a team."
"No." Justinia planted her feet and Kemp stumbled, nearly falling face-first in the dirt. "I'm going back to help him."
"With what?" The lieutenant glared at her, his face haggard, the cut on his forehead bleeding through a bit, staining the bandages. The wound made him appear fearsome.
Justinia swallowed before raising her chin defiantly. "Well, I…"
"Do you even have any of your weapons anymore?"
"Well, no, but you have your gun."
Kemp frowned. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth for a moment before giving her a long-suffering look. "I have my orders. The sooner I get you back to the safety of the jumper, the sooner I can bring help back. We don't know if the Wraith have even left yet or if there are ground troops still hanging around."
Terror shredded her body, icicles that rode over and through her as Kemp's words turned prophetic. Behind him, a large shape lumbered out from behind one of the cottages, raising its weapon. She tried to warn him, but the Wraith drone was too fast and her words were slowed by the icy dread. Kemp's eyes went wide and he crumpled to the ground, falling in slow motion. Justinia stood frozen in place as the drone strode toward her with menacing purpose. She was rooted to the spot, an iceberg unable to move of its own accord.
He stepped over Kemp's prone form and grabbed her by the front of her neck, cutting the amount of air she could drag into her lungs to nearly none in an instant. The other hand—his feeding hand, she noted dimly—reared back. Regret flashed through her. Evan and I will never be married now, we'll never have a family. It's too late. Please just let it be quick and painless. But she had read the reports and knew better—it might be quick, but it would not be gentle. The fact that the Wraith injected their victims with a drug to keep them from dying too quickly from the agony of the feeding spoke volumes.
The hand began to descend and Justinia closed her eyes, wincing and trying to pull away; she grabbed the arm that was holding her, an immovable wall of solid muscle. A low growl sounded and Justinia risked a peek to find one of the commanders striding up behind the warrior.
The soldier dropped his feeding hand, but still held her by the throat with the other one. The officer sneered as he tipped his head to the side, studying her the way a raptor might study some odd new mouse. "You are not from this planet."
Justinia tried to swallow and began coughing at the constriction of her throat. The commander must have given a telepathic command, as the warrior released his hold and stepped back. The leader's gaze traveled over her body, cruel eyes assessing.
"We have heard of a group of humans who dare to think they are not sustenance. You are one of them and you are wrong to think you can defeat us. Wraith are superior in every way. Tell me where your home is—where Atlantis is—now."
Justinia massaged her throat, trying to buy time, hoping that Kemp would wake up and kill the Wraith or that Evan would rescue her once more. If Achaz didn't kill him.
Despite the exit hole above them, the cavern was too dim to see well. Evan quickly broke two sets of light sticks and threw them down onto the dirt. The light made seeing easier and Evan was almost immediately sorry for it. A slow smile spread across Achaz's face, the muted lights throwing his large features into shadow, making him look like a monster from a B movie. "You will die now and your woman will be mine."
He even sounds like a B movie. "I don't think so, Achaz. I might die now, but Justinia's safely out of your hands." Christ let that be true. "And once we leave this planet, we will not return. You will be on your own, as you were. We won't deal with dishonorable people." Evan knew the smith would attack, with or without provocation. He just wanted this fight over with quickly so he could join the others and get off this planet.
The smile disappeared from Achaz's face and his brows furrowed. He roared in anger and dove for Evan. Evan back-pedaled toward a rock wall, side-stepping at the same time. He reached forward to push down on Achaz's neck. Dirt and sweat slipped under his fingers but he forced himself to keep his hands on the man's neck, pushing him away at the same time that he pushed down.
Achaz was caught off-balance by having his target side-step; he flailed his arms wildly and went down. He rose to his hands and knees, spitting dirt. The look he shot over his shoulder would have incinerated Antarctica.
He lumbered to his feet and charged once more, his furious bellow echoing off the rock walls of the cave system. This time, he kept his gaze locked on Evan.
Evan kept his fists up, feinting with them to hold Achaz's gaze while he twisted his body, knocking Achaz down with a spinning hook kick that landed in the middle of the smith's muscular back. The solid landing sent a wave of pain from Evan's booted foot all the way up his leg.
Achaz rose and stood glaring at Evan, meaty hands on his knees. The sound of his labored breathing mingled with the hollow sounds of dripping water. The smith rose to his full height, his hands dropping to his sides as he fisted his fingers.
Despite the cold of the cavern, sweat broke out on Evan's forehead. Ahcaz was twice his size and his look promised death. If he ever managed to get his hands on Evan, it would be over.
Achaz moved forward more cautiously and Evan attacked with a spinning roundhouse kick. Achaz grabbed his ankle and twisted, throwing him to the ground. His body hit the floor, forcing the air from his lungs. He sucked in dirt with his first breath, which brought on a coughing fit.
Pain tore through him as the big man landed on him and began pummeling his kidneys. The huge fists would rupture something if Evan didn't escape the meaty grasp soon. He reached into the arm of his jacket and pulled out his small utility knife, opening it under his chin so Achaz wouldn't see it. He jerked his arm back, driving the sharp blade deep into Achaz's thigh and twisting.
The smith bellowed and jumped up, trying to dislodge the blade. Evan forced himself to stand and shook his head, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When things stopped looking fuzzy around the edges, he glanced up to see the opportunity he needed. Achaz had removed the blade and was slowly standing. Evan moved in and gave a snap kick to the square jaw that sent Achaz toppling over like a big oak tree. He winced at the crack of the man's jawbone breaking.
He bent, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath and praying Achaz was finally down. Evan watched cautiously, waiting for some sign that the big man was playing possum, but the only movement was the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Evan moved past the broken ladder and grabbed his P-90 and his mag, reattaching the mag to the frame and slinging the weapon over his shoulder. He rubbed his hands in the dirt to soak up the sweat and turned to the rope, jumping as high as he could before shimmying his way up to the top of the hole. The rope burned his hands as he forced his weary body higher. At the top, he immediately pulled the rope up before allowing himself to collapse.
Evan took a few belly breaths, gradually bringing his breathing back to normal. Heaving a big sigh, he forced his eyelids to open. He rolled over and rose stiffly, groaning and coughing at the pain in his abdomen.
He stumbled and crashed into the wall, using it for support. He reached for his radio.
"Kemp. You there?"
Silence.
"Kemp. Answer me."
The lieutenant still did not respond. Evan clicked the radio on again. "Doc. Where are you?"
More silence, in which he could hear his heart begin to pound in his throat as stark terror chased it from his chest. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He switched frequencies. "Coughlin, come in."
Static and then his XO's voice came out, filling Evan with relief. "Yes sir."
"Coughlin, I can't raise Kemp or the doc. Are they with you yet?"
"Negative, sir."
Evan closed his eyes for a single heartbeat. "You and Sheff sweep toward my position in the village. I'm by the smithy. I'll come toward you; we'll meet at the edge of town closest to the jumper."
"Got it."
Evan glanced out the window, readying his P-90 as he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Satisfied that he wouldn't be stunned immediately after leaving the smithy, he opened the door, slowly inching his way out, staying low to the ground. At the corner of the building, he glanced quickly around the structure, once more ensuring that he would not be shot. All clear. At the front corner, he glanced around again, but this time cold dread filled him.
Kemp lay in a crumpled heap face-up on the ground. Fifty feet in front of him, a drone stood guard beside a Wraith commander; the two Wraith had their backs to him. On her knees in front of the commander was Justinia, her head thrown back. Evan reached into a pocket of his tac vest and took out his telescope to get a better look at the scene. Justinia's features were pinched in pain, but she did not show any signs of having been fed upon. Yet.
Movement caught his eye. Kemp's arm was slowly moving out toward his weapon. He would go for the commander first, Evan was sure of it. Kemp's test scores showed a young man of higher than average intelligence; the only thing that held him in his current rank was a solid lack of respect for the chain of command. The boy had sense, though, and must know that if he attacked the commander, the drone would defend his leader before chasing Nia. Evan's best chance was to take out the drone, even though every instinct in him wanted to remove the immediate threat to his woman.
Evan slipped back behind the full cover of the building and radioed Coughlin and Sheffield. "Coughlin, Sheff."
"Here sir."
"Come in on ghost mode. Kemp and the doc are being held by two hostiles. Kemp is down but not out. If you see a chance for back-up, give it. Kemp and I will handle the bogies."
"Yes sir."
"Yes sir."
Evan peered back around the corner, his eyes locked on Kemp. Seconds seemed to take hours as Kemp reached for the P-90 by his side. Finally, the lieutenant's fingers closed on the stock and began to move it subtly toward himself. Any moment now. Time slowed again. He watched for it and then it was there—the subtle bunching of Kemp's muscles as he prepared to grab the gun, roll out of the way and come up firing, all in the span of microseconds.
Evan turned the corner and opened up on the drone, hoping he'd been right about Kemp's target.
The flat black eyes reminded Justinia of a shark, a great white shark ready to devour its prey. Terror gripped her and held her immobile on her knees in front of the commander. He raised his feeding hand and once again, in the space of a mere few minutes, Justinia saw her pitiful life flash before her eyes. With the exception of the past few months on Atlantis, the friendship of the team and the love she'd shared with Evan, the scenes left her nothing to care about losing. Had it not been for coming to Atlantis, her life would have been useless, a waste. Ironically, had she not come to Atlantis, she wouldn't be about to lose her life.
Please, God. If you get me out of this, I swear I will do something positive with my life. I won't be afraid to love and be loved.
Wonderful. Not only do I sound like some sappy romance heroine, but I'm praying to a deity my parents said only existed in the minds of the unenlightened. Next thing you know, I'll be jumping up and shouting "Hallelujah!" Of course, they've been wrong about other things—Atlantis, O'Connor, movies… On the other hand, a little insurance couldn't hurt. So God, if you're listening still, sorry about the "non-existent" comment.
She refused to close her eyes, even though every nerve in her body wanted to flinch as the commander's hand began to descend. The commander's hand shredded and then his head exploded, showering her with bits of flesh and bone and blood. The loud report of a P-90 seemed muffled. The Wraith leader's headless body collapsed toward her and she dove to the side in time to see the drone dancing forward as his body was jerked side to side from unseen projectiles. A moment later, Evan rushed toward her, lifting her to her feet and dragging her toward the cover of the woods.
She nearly screamed as the camouflage-painted faces of Coughlin and Sheffield appeared from seemingly nowhere. Evan's hand on her mouth stifled the noise. A moment later, Kemp joined them.
"I think I killed him, sir, but we probably shouldn't hang around too long."
Evan removed his hand from Justinia's mouth and smiled at Kemp. "I don't think he'll be healing anytime soon, Lieutenant. Good job. But you're right. Let's get out of here."
Justinia grabbed Evan by the tac vest and whirled him toward her. Relief flooded her body and she nearly laughed at the surprise on his face. She rose up and planted her lips on his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. At first, he was stiff with shock, but then he responded, melting into the kiss, one hand coming up to cradle her head. She wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes from his body and show him how much she loved him, how very much he meant to her.
The none-too-subtle clearing of throats forced them back to reality and they broke the kiss, both of them breathing heavily. She looked up into Evan's eyes; that steady gray was lit by a fire, a blaze she had caused. She smiled up at him, hoping she conveyed the right amount of promise. "Let's go home."
